How to date a Nightwing
by MissScorp
Summary: In the interest of the day being Valentine's Day, and love being in the air, the Gotham Gazette wanted to celebrate the spirit of the occasion by creating a list of ten potential ways in which one lucky lady just might land herself a date with Gotham's most eligible crime fighter, Nightwing. Much to the masked superhero's humor and embarrassment. One-shot. Dick Grayson. *Complete*


**A/N:** Hello m'dears… and welcome! Know this is a little bit late, but inspiration strikes when it strikes right? This story is set at the end of one of my completed stories, **Love & Bullets** and is just a little Valentine's humor to strike the whimsy.

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"So," Raya Kean read aloud from the newspaper open in her lap. "In the interest of today being Valentine's Day, and love being in the air, we here at the _Gotham Gazette_ wanted to celebrate the spirit of the occasion by creating a list of potential ways in which one lucky lady just might land herself a date with Gotham's most eligible crime fighter, Nightwing."

There was a snort and then Dick Grayson was reaching for the newspaper that she was reading from. "Gimme that," he grumbled.

"Why?" Raya laughed while yanking the papers out of his reach. "You're not afraid that you'll get bombarded by single ladies when you go out on patrol later, are you?"

"No," he growled. "Considering how my soon-to-be _wife_ is going to be right by my side and can inform them that I'm not Gotham's most eligible crime fighter."

One dark brow lifted and her eyes glinted with mischievousness. "I don't recall _Nightwing_ proposing to the _Fenix_, bird boy."

"When _Dick Grayson_ proposed to _Raya Kean_," he shot back. "_Nightwing_ was damn sure proposing to the _Fenix_. And when _Raya_ finally said yes," he said over her chortle of laughter. "So did the _Fenix_."

"Hrm," she mused while tapping one long, manicured nail against her chin. "Guess she'd better call and cancel her date with Dr. Crane then."

Dick glowered at her. "That was so not funny, Raya."

She snorted. "That's because you're being a grumpy bird boy this morning."

"Just read your list," he groused while pouring himself a cup of coffee from the silver coffee pot set on the tray.

"I was planning on reading it anyway." She unfurled the paper with a snap and said, "The tenth thing that a woman must have if she is going to date Nightwing… patience." Raya glanced over at him; grinned. "That one I agree wholeheartedly with."

Dick harrumphed. "You can be just as irritating, babe."

"You love me even when I am being irritating, though."

"I love you even _though_ you are irritating," he teased. Raya harrumphed and reached over to pluck his coffee mug out of his hands. "Hey!" he howled, his eyes glinting with dismay. "Gimme that back!"

"Nope," she said, turning to set the mug upon the nightstand. "For being a smart ass, you lose your coffee privileges." She glanced at him from over her shoulder, and there was deviltry swirling in the depths of her green eyes. "Keep it up and you'll lose one of your _other_ favorite privileges next."

"Don't you even think about cutting off those privileges, woman," he warned her in a low tone.

"Or you'll do what?" she quipped with a slight toss of her head. "Spank me?"

Dick quickly pointed at the paper she was still holding before that particular thought even had a chance to take root in his mind. "Just read what number ten says about patience."

Raya hid a grin but obliged him by saying, "Number ten on our list should probably be up there in the top three, but it's the first thing that any lady should have if she's going to date a man with the codename of Nightwing: Patience. That's right ladies; you must have a great deal of tolerance in order to date Gotham's most eligible superhero. Not only will you have to contend with his roaming around the city with Batman and Robin, but you'll have to put up with him meandering around Gotham at night. His name is not Nightwing just for kicks, after all. His nocturnal activities almost guarantee that midnight walks along the beach, or romantic dinners for two are going to be trying affairs. A patient woman, though, will persevere and create other innovative ways in which to have dates with her costumed hero."

Dick plucked a grape from the tray and popped it in his mouth. "Like sharing a romantic breakfast in bed with him," he said with a grin. "Or meeting him on the thirteenth gargoyle inside Wayne Enterprises and watching the sun come up while sharing a cup of coffee."

"I've learned just to settle for cuddling with him on our couch," she quipped before she continued reading. "Oh, I definitely agree with number nine." She tilted the paper so he could read it. "Must have basic medical knowledge."

"Yeah," he said on a sigh. "Even I gotta admit that that is definitely a plus for a woman wanting to date a crime fighter to have."

"Yeah, well, having medical knowledge also goes hand in hand with having patience." She picked up her mug and took a sip before saying, "A woman has to be exceptionally patient in order to handle the myriads of injuries that you tend to rack up, Dick. And she must have some knowledge about how to treat more than just minor things like pulled muscles and ankle sprains."

"Bruce didn't lie to us." He took her mug from her and refilled it. "He told us that being crime fighters was going to come with consequences. Some," he said with a grimace as he moved his still healing shoulder and felt a pain shoot through his arm. "That he warned us were going to be quite bloody, and amazingly painful."

"I know." She watched as he poured cream into the cup. That he only added enough to turn the velvet liquid a light shade of mocha did not surprise her any. They tended to take their coffee the same way: light cream, no sugar. She hid a smile. "If you'll recall, that's why Bruce had me apprentice beneath Alfred after I was given entrance into your club. I was to help with the medical necessities."

Dick snorted. "You had entrance into the club before I was given entrance into the club, Rae."

He was right, she realized. She had been given entrance into Batman's world before him. Old fears and insecurities were dredged up and a voice in the back of her head had her asking him, "Did you resent that?"

"Resent what?" he asked curiously.

"Me," she said before shifting and straddling his legs. "Did you ever resent me being given entrance into his world before he granted you access to it?"

Dick started. _What was the daft woman going on about now_? he wondered. But then it clicked. Did he resent that Bruce allowed her in while keeping him in the dark about his nocturnal activities. He looked her in the eyes when he said, "No, I didn't. _You_ came into his life first, Rae."

"But he brought you into his home. He made you his ward," she replied in a tight voice. Dick watched as little lines formed at the corners of her mouth. She was fretting, clearly. Well, he knew how to fix that.

"You needed him before I needed him. And," he said before she could voice the objection he saw brimming in her eyes. "_He_ needed _you_. _You_ were who showed Bruce that it was okay to care about someone again."

"He had Alfred."

"And still went around breaking thug's jaws and shin bones." He smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "The light came into his life when you came into his life. And into mine," he said a second before kissing her. "I was lost until you came into my world, Rae."

Instantly she softened, her eyes losing the shadowy swirl of regret. Then she circled his neck with her arms and said in a low, honeyed murmur, "My world was nothing until you came into it, buzzard beak."

"I know," he teased her. "And you've got a lifetime in which to pay me back for my generosity."

She harrumphed and pointed to the paper. "Read number eight, ya jerk."

He snickered, but obliged her by picking up the paper. "Ah, well now, number eight I most definitely agree with," he said. "Any woman who wants to get the attention of Nightwing must have brains. Our costumed hero hangs around with women such as Batgirl, Huntress, Black Bat and the Fenix on a regular basis. Quite simply, a woman cannot be an idiot if she wants to snag herself a date with this hero."

Raya smirked. "You're the one who keeps telling me that you love my sexy little mind."

He placed a soft kiss to her forehead. "I do love your sexy little mind," he told her with a lopsided grin. "I just wish you'd turn it off every now and again."

She snorted. "I turn it off when we go to sleep."

"Yeah," he said dryly. "And I've got the Eiffel Tower for sale on eBay."

"Oh, glad you said that," she said cheekily.

"Why?" he asked in a voice laced with trepidation.

"Because number seven says a woman must have a sense of humor if she wants to date you."

He glanced at the paper before making a _fff_ sound. "Yup, so couldn't date a woman without a sense of humor. It would seriously bore the hell out of me."

Both her eyebrows shot up. "Oh, really now?" She cocked her head to the side and studied him for a moment. "And why's that?"

"C'mon, Rae," he said with a leer. "Yanno as well as I do that the barbs we shoot back and forth at each other are our version of foreplay."

"I just always figured it was your big mouth shooting off like always."

"Hey, I'm chatty."

She rolled her eyes, said, "That's a duh."

"It's part of my charm," he growled playfully. "And you know it."

"What I know is that your chattiness requires a woman to utilize number's ten, nine, eight and seven on a regular basis."

"And number six," he said on a long breath. "Is that a woman must know how to keep a secret."

"Seriously?" she asked. "It seriously says know how to keep a secret for number six?"

"Yup," he said before handing her the paper. "Read it for yourself."

"Any woman who finds herself lucky as to discover who the man is beneath that mask has to be a special lady indeed. Well, duh," she muttered. "He doesn't tell every woman he dates who he is." She continued reading. "Maintaining her silence and not giving away her knowledge of his identity to any one of the innumerable foes her masked hero has is going to require her to be able to keep her mouth shut. Something that is definitely difficult for most women (who are genetically programmed to be gossiping magpies in this writer's mind). Well," Raya said huffily. "I've successfully kept who you are a secret for seventeen-years so other women could. If I was willing to share you," she said cheerily. "Which, I am not, for the record."

"You're the exception and not the rule, babe."

"I'm also a Fenix," she said with a smirk. "And while we might sing, we never reveal the secrets that we hold inside our hearts." Her gaze then landed upon number five and she let out a groan a second before she clapped a hand to her face. "Oh, I can't believe that they put this as number five…" she muttered.

"What?" Dick asked.

"Number five says that a lady should not mind being kissed (and what woman would? this reporter asks) on live television for the entire world to see. A tense moment tends to cause our costumed hero to forget about where he is and a lady needs to make allowances for such things if she wants to be in a relationship with him." She snorted a laugh. "Well, not that I mind if the world sees you kiss me senseless, but it's totally not a reason for why I'm marrying ya."

"Excuse me?" One dark brow arched. "Kissing me is not a reason to marry me?"

She shot him an impish look. "As much as I _might_ enjoy your kisses," she said in a sing-song voice. "They are so totally not worth the headache of having to spend every day with you, no."

"Uh-huh, right," he stated with a roll of his eyes, "and you are sitting in my lap in nothing but my t-shirt, why then? Recall some kissing going on last night that convinced ya we should stay the night here at my apartment rather than return to the manor."

Raya felt heat creeping into her cheeks and used the paper to form a wall between them. "Oh, look," she said. "Respect his boundaries is number four!" She lowered the paper a fraction of an inch to quip, "That's something that he definitely needs to learn for himself. Tends to make the most inappropriate comments at times…"

He grinned as he snatched the paper out of her hands. "You're so totally changing the subject, Rae."

"And number three says don't be clingy…" she continued on a laugh.

"And number two that a girl shouldn't be a damsel in distress. Which," he leaned in to skim his lips over her jaw. "They got one thing wrong in that section."

"Oh?" Her eyes shivered lightly in anticipation. "And what is it they got wrong?"

"They don't say how he's got absolutely no problem in allowing the damsel to rescue _him_ if the situation calls for it." He leaned back to look in her eyes. "I'm not the type of man whose ego takes a hit if his woman has to leap into the mix and save him from taking a beating."

Her lips curved. "Is this your way of saying thank you for me having rescued your hide back in Chicago?"

"It's my way of saying that we're equals in this relationship, Rae. As much as I love being your Knight in black Kevlar, I'm comfortable with the fact that you can take care of yourself." His fingers danced up and down her back. "Now, do me a favor and wrap your arms around my neck. I'd like to prove you wrong about your whole being kissed by me is not worth marrying me line."

She choked on a laugh. "But we haven't read what the number one thing a lady needs in order to land a date with Nightwing!"

"You have ten seconds," he stated, "so I'd suggest spilling the answer in as few words as you need."

"And the number one thing you need if you want to date a man like Nightwing?" Raya paused for theatrical effect. Dick chose to use the silence to skim his lips over her throat. He felt her shiver and smiled.

"You've got five seconds…" he murmured against her throat. "I'd hurry."

She swallowed and said in a slightly breathy voice, "Red hair. Yep, that's right ladies. It seems that our costumed superhero has a real affinity for ladies with red hair. Course, how this rumor started could be because of his rather public affairs with two women who had red hair, but what does this reporter know?"

Dick leaned back to look her in the face. "It does not say th…" he began before snatching the paper and glancing at it. "Well, I'll be damned." He angled his head to look at her. "It actually does say that."

"Yep, it does," she said gravely. "Which, since I _clearly_ don't have red hair…"

He snorted and tossed the papers to the floor. "I'm rather particular to hair that looks like ink when it's spilled across my chest."

She continued by saying, "And since the article totally says you should prefer Kori or Barb…"

He wrapped his arms around her. "I am rather particular to temperamental little hellcats," he murmured. "They tend to hiss and spit when they are pissed off, but purr when they are content."

She made a sound low in her throat that was both amusement and budding interest. "…means that I get to keep my Valentine's date with Crane."

"Wrong," he said a second before his lips met hers.


End file.
